humor

"Humor is what binds humans together and makes difficult times just a little less painful; Sometimes you can't help but laugh. "

Hygge Is My New Winter Ritual
So the first reason my new winter ritual is hygge is that it's pronounced "Hoo-Gah". I'm just going to run around yelling "Hoo-Gah!"
By John R. Godwin24 days ago in Humans
Island Girl Coping Mechanism For When It’s Too Damn Winter. Runner-Up in The Ritual of Winter Challenge. Top Story - December 2025.
Growing up without Icelandic temperatures shapes you into a different being. And this particular being put on a valiant front until climate change upped the ante in my current location with a well-timed sucker punch some years back that became standard.
By The Dani Writer24 days ago in Humans
Not Prepared To Fail
Introduction There are many ways to view winter and prepare for it. This challenge is another I know I might fail at. It seems the criteria and qualities that get you favoured by Vocal are ones I do not have. Having said that, my friends and audience know how excellent my work is.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 26 days ago in Humans
The Bridge of Songs
THE STORY Sarangpur was a town split by a wide, winding river. On the west bank lived the Khans, known for their storytelling, poetry, and traditional music. On the east bank lived the Shahids, skilled artisans who crafted wood, metal, and stone with unmatched precision.
By M.Farooq26 days ago in Humans
When Power Shapes Global Chaos
A Complaint on Trump: When Power Shapes Global Chaos Leadership in a globalized world carries a weight far heavier than national borders. Decisions made in powerful offices do not remain contained within one country; they travel across oceans, destabilize regions, and redefine lives far removed from the original source. This reality makes accountability essential, especially when leadership choices amplify conflict rather than resolve it.
By Wings of Time 27 days ago in Humans
Ante-Christmas . Top Story - December 2025.
Holidays are coming! Holidays are coming! Ugh. It's like a "Tremors" earworm burrowing its way into my head, insistent on gobbling up what little grey matter I have left.
By Caroline Jane27 days ago in Humans
The Village of Open Doors
THE STORY The village of Roshni lay nestled between golden fields of wheat and sunflowers, kissed by the sun every morning. For generations, it had been a place where neighbors shared meals, celebrated festivals together, and helped each other in times of need.
By M.Farooq28 days ago in Humans
The Bridge of Whispers
THE STORY The river Seren ran calmly between two villages: Willowbrook on the left bank and Mapleford on the right. Once, the villages had been one community. Children played together, merchants traded freely, and festivals were celebrated on the banks of the river. But a quarrel over land ownership decades ago had split the town in two.
By M.Farooq29 days ago in Humans
The Lighthouse of Hope
THE STORY The town of Rafiya Bay stretched along a jagged coastline, where the ocean met the cliffs in foamy waves. Generations of families had fished these waters, navigating storms, tides, and hidden rocks. And for generations, the lighthouse at the edge of the cliff had guided them home safely.
By M.Farooq29 days ago in Humans
The Garden of Silent Hearts
THE STORY The town of Saharabad had once been famous for its gardens. Every home had a little patch of greenery, a few flowers, or a small vegetable patch. But the largest garden, in the center of town, had been abandoned for years.
By M.Farooq29 days ago in Humans
The Sound of the Bell
THE STORY The town of Almarah was once known for one thing above all else — its bell. Every morning at sunrise, the old bell in the town square rang softly, echoing through narrow streets and open windows. It marked the beginning of the day, calling shopkeepers to open their doors, children to hurry to school, and elders to sit outside with their tea.
By M.Farooq29 days ago in Humans
The First Light of Winter
The Quiet Ritual of the First Light Winter always arrives quietly where I live. It doesn’t crash in with the dramatic snowfall that blankets cities in storybooks, nor does it roar with the kind of wind that rattles old windows. Instead, it appears like a soft exhale—cooler evenings, paler mornings, and a hush that settles over the neighborhood long before I’m ready for it. Every year, this hush nudges me toward a ritual I didn’t realize I’d inherited until adulthood: the ritual of the first morning light.
By Waqar Khan30 days ago in Humans